


Fill My Head With Dreams

by j_gabrielle



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Prostitution, Slight OOC, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8661436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Mary Lou cocks her head, considering. “Perhaps Mr Graves is looking for something... Different?”The boy is mesmerising. Almost ethereal against the luridness of this place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filled for a Tumblr prompt from theapplesweremonitored: Okay, so about that new ship we got from Fantastic Beasts, (you know the one, I spotted your fics while in the AO3 tag): I'm thinking Prostitution AU, I'm thinking Hooker!Credence, Madam!Mary Lou, and Bored!Rich!IRISH!Percival. Watchu think, bro?
> 
>  
> 
> [Send those prompts here](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
>  
> 
> In all honesty, this piece got way longer than I bargained for. Like, Way Way Way Longer.

Madam Mary Lou Barebone dresses like it isn’t the middle of a summer heatwave in New York. Her smile is painted on. Like that of a doll’s. Percival thinks he has never met anyone he has hated on sight as much as he hates Mary Lou.

“Next.” Her voice calls out. A new girl parades herself into the salon. This one is pretty, naked save for the gossamer slip, angelic if not for those eyes that seem glassy with opiates and her slight limp. He feels a slight shiver crawling under his skin in disgust. Mary Lou smiles and smiles even as he shakes his head, a tendril of regret bright in his chest despite the bored airs he affects around him, that he cannot spare her from whomever Mary Lou sells her to tonight.

Percival has been here a good half-hour. The stares of his fellow club members are expectant, prickling. They have apparently made it a rule that no one will take to their rooms until everyone has bought a partner. Their initial amusement at his apparent lack of interest is slowly turning into annoyance.

And that is when Mary Lou cocks her head, considering. “Perhaps Mr Graves is looking for something... Different?” Smile growing ever wider as she turns to one of the younger girls who stands beside her, whispering her orders. “Maybe this will satisfy your proclivities.”

A boy comes through, Percival has to hold his breath, burying his anger deep within him lest he let his Irish temperament take hold of him. This isn’t the Old Country and it would do him no good to ruin his relationship with the club when his father had been pushing for him to build contacts in New York.

But the boy is mesmerising. Almost ethereal against the luridness of this place. 

“Does this suit you?” Mary Lou asks in his ear. Percival hides his surprise at his mind being occupied immediately behind a placid smile. The boy is too young and it shows. This is not what he is for in this place. Judging by the way he flinches under his gaze, he must have been coerced into this.

“Just pick him, Graves!” Comes the voice of Callows. He can see the fat man in his expensive suit and the Cajun girl he chose perched on the arm of his chair. “Not all of us are as young as we would like to be, and we would like to get a few rounds in before our wives begin to look for us!” A rise of obnoxious laughter and hooting grows behind him, and he rises, going to the boy.

Dark hair, black almost blue, and the loveliest brown eyes are kept trained to the ground. The boy holds himself like he is trying to take up as little space as possible. Percival can feel Mary Lou’s gaze sharp and shark-like as he does.

“Look at me.” He says, folding his arms behind him. Percival waits until the boy does before smiling. “Yes, perfect.”

“Oh, thank the heavens!” Someone crows from behind him. “Madam Barebone, I am sure you have our rooms ready?”

“Next time, let’s just start with the boys.” Someone else says, as they are herded upstairs. Mary Lou follows, that doll-like smile ever present. She shows Percival and the boy to their room personally.

“I will send someone up with water for the bath in an hour.” She says, opening the door. She levels a long look at the boy. “Please enjoy him.”

The boy’s breath hitches, and if Percival was not beside him, he would not have heard it at all. His brown eyes watch the woman as she turns and walks back down the stairs. Realisation dawns quick and swift. “Come on.” Percival says, the rising disgust threatening to overwhelm him again.

Percival sheds his tie, undoing his cufflinks. “What’s your name?” He asks, pouring out two fingers of whisky. 

“Credence, sir.”

“That’s a strong name. A rather religious name.” Percival says, knocking back his drink. “Isn’t it strange to be working here with a name like yours? Wouldn’t your mother mind?”

He turns just in time to see the boy flinch. “Ma doesn’t. She says it’s fine.”

Percival frowns. “How old are you?”

“24. Sir.”

Setting the glass down, he goes over to the boy. 24 is older than what he had initially thought the boy to be. “Credence, may I ask you a question?” He waits for the nod before continuing, “Is Mary Lou your mother?”

Credence startles even more. Eyes going impossibly wide with fear. “I’m just asking, Credence. ‘M not trying to start any trouble for either one of us.” He soothes. Credence blinks owlishly before nodding.

Percival clenches and unclenches his hands once, twice, thrice. Willing himself to calm down, to not barge out the door and grab that awful woman. “Please, sir. Please...” Credence steps close to him, gripping his sleeve, tears brimming in his eyes. “P-please.” Percival looks at Credence, sure that the boy himself doesn’t even know what he is begging for.

“I - ” He starts.

“She got Modesty to t-tell me that if you left here u-unhappy, I’d get a skinning.” Credence interrupts, “Please, sir. Mr Graves, sir.”

“A skinning?” 

Credence’s grip on his sleeve tightens. Gently laying one hand over his, Percival coaxes him to release his clothes. “Show me.”

Credence hesitate only for a second before stepping away. Head bowed, he sheds his jacket, then his vest. His hands move to his tie, before looking up, brown eyes dark and wet. “I just want to see.” Percival says softly.

The tie and the shirt are removed in quick succession. Credence stands before him in the warmth of the room, shivering with his arms wrapped around him. “Credence, I promise you. I am not here to hurt you.” He says, holding out his hand. 

A hesitant hand is slipped into his, and he holds it tight, pulling him close. Percival turns him to face towards the open windows. He holds his breath, tempering his touches as he glides his fingertips over the half-healed welts, the pale scars marring his back. He ghosts his hand over the bruises, the marks, and where it looks like the bones did not heal right.

“She gave you these.”

Credence tilts his head, considering. The candlelight dancing on the plains of his face. Percival moves his hand to wrap around a hip. “Why? Why does she hurt you?”

“Because she hates me.” Eyes cast low, lips a thin line. From the next door, he can hear the sounds of Callows fucking his girl. The man grunts like he is a dying cow.

“She’s your mother.”

“My mother’s dead. Ma took me in.” Percival smooths a thumb over the jut of his hipbone. “I was always only supposed to just look after the girls. But she warned me that there might be a day that I would... Have to do more.” 

Percival draws himself away at that. Going over to refill his glass, he swallows. “Have you ever done this before?”

“No, sir.” Credence wrings his hands. “B-but the girls always tried to teach me as much as they could.” He blinks as if he remembered something nice. “We look out for each other.”

Not even bothering with savouring the taste of the whisky, not that it would have ever matched up to the cheapest one he has back home, Percival moves back to Credence’s side, hovering just at a distance. “Credence, I am not going to hurt you. I won’t. We can work something out in regards to tonight. I’ll make sure Madam Barebone is - “

Credence tilts his head, looking at him. There is steel in his gaze. Different from when they first locked eyes, as if in between then and now, he made a decision for himself.

“There is one thing the girls always told me. They always said that if I could make a choice in who I... Have. As m-my first. I should always choose the man who shows me that he won’t hurt me.” Credence visibly unfurls himself, “I choose you.”

“Credence.” He whispers.

The boy shakes his head, stepping forth. “I choose you. Mr Graves.”

Percival keeps his hands to himself, even as Credence comes to press their bodies together. Eyes looking downwards to where his hand moves to touch against Percival’s in the barest of brushes. 

“Are you sure?” He trips over the words a little. 

Credence slides their hands together again. “Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

Percival guides him to the bed in the corner. “Sit.” Credence obeys and Percival goes to his knees in front of him. “If I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable, or if there is something you want to try, just tell me.” He moves his free hand to hold at Credence’s hip. “I need you to tell me you understand this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cupping Credence’s cheek, Percival shakes his head. “Percival. If we are really doing this.” At that, Credence smiles.

“Percival.”

Credence says his name like it is something precious. Percival swallows down the crawling feeling that swells in him. That is something to unpack and examine later. Right now, he pulls him close for a kiss, slow and sweet.

Percival parts his lips, running his tongue on the seam of Credence’s mouth. Idly, he wraps an arm around Credence, moving a hand to his nape. He suckles gently on his bottom lip, chuckling when Credence moans and jerks forth, rubbing his erection against Percival’s side. Parting, he thumbs the curve of his jaw, desperately fond despite himself.

“Lie back down.”

Credence pulls away reluctantly. Going onto his back, eyes trained on him. Percival ignores the way his dark hair fans out on the covers, how his lips are slick with spit and kiss-reddened. He focuses instead on undoing the front of Credence’s trousers, gently guiding him until he has divested him of it, his socks and his shoes.

“Comfortable?” He asks, kneeling back between Credence’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Credence says quietly.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, moving their hands together. Percival allows himself the indulgence of pressing kisses to the inside of Credence’s thighs. He catalogues the way Credence shifts and shivers with the rub of his day old stubble against the sensitive skin there. Leaning down, Percival noses against his balls, committing the scent he finds there to memory, tilting his head to brush his lips to the base of Credence’s cock.

“Still all right?” Percival murmurs.

“I swear to God, if you ask me that one more time!” Credence growls, pushing himself to his elbows. Percival laughs outright at the sight of Credence glaring at him with his hair in all wild abandoned, pupils inky black with arousal, and flushed from his cheeks to his chest.

Brushing his lips against the soft skin of his belly, Percival murmurs his apologies. Moving back to wrap his hand around the base of Credence’s erection, he casts one last look to check on him before shaping his mouth around the head of his cock. 

Credence goes taut as a bow at that first suction of his mouth. The little helpless gasps that punctuate the air with each bob and twist, sings straight down his spine and right to his own erection. Percival opts to ignore it in favour of pouring every ounce of his focus onto the young man on the bed. 

He closes his eyes, savouring every single movement he makes and how they draw out a reaction so intoxicating from Credence. Like this, Percival cannot recall for the life of him, all the others both men and women who had been in his bed before Credence.

Credence comes with a whimper and with no warning. “P-Percival, Perc-!” He shouts, thighs tightening around him like a vice as he arches and sobs. 

Percival tries to swallow as much as he can, but in truth he finds semen in his mouth to be wholly disgusting. Spitting it out onto the carpet, he wipes his mouth down with the back of his hand. Pushing himself upright and out of the cradle of Credence’s thighs, he goes back to the whisky, opting to take one deep drink, swilling it around his mouth before he spits it into an empty glass.

“Ma won’t like that.” Credence says with a slur from the bed.

“Yeah, well. Your Ma will just have to deal with it.” Percival grimaces when he takes a deep fortifying drink.

Corking it and going to the small water jug and basin, he wets a small face towel. Moving back to Credence, he wipes him down, cleaning away the semen that is beginning to dry at his dark pubic hair and on his skin. He does his best for the sheen of sweat. When done, he tosses it back in the general direction of the lounge chair. 

“Your Ma said she would send someone up with the bath water in an hour, but I reckon it has been more than that.” Percival says lightly, moving their bodies until they are lying on the pillows ensconced in each other’s arms. He pulls the covers over Credence’s hips. Credence doesn’t reply. He watches him from under satiated and heavy half-lidded eyes. “Credence, you do know -”

“Yes.” Credence says, tucking himself closer against him. “I know.”

Percival closes his eyes. This is a mess of his own doing. “I cannot promise you anything.”

“I know that too.” Credence sighs, “Just... Come and see me some times. If you are ever in the vicinity?”

Despite himself, Percival finds himself promising to do just that. When Credence finally falls asleep, he slips out of their embrace, feeling oddly chilled despite the warmth of the air. 

“I trust that he was to your satisfaction?” Mary Lou says as he is closing the door. Percival grits his teeth, summoning every ounce of control he has.

“He was perfect.” He says around a smile. He knows he certainly looks the part of a satisfied customer of this establishment, so any chance of Credence suffering the wrath of his mother is low at best. Drawing out a couple of notes, he slips them her way. “I might have tired him out. Keep the room for him in a few hours would you?”

Moving past her, he pauses at the top of the stairs. “And also, I’ll be back in two days and I expect to see him unharmed and unmarked.” Percival says smoothly. “Good evening, Madam Barebone.”

The woman remains smiling as she bids him farewell. Percival doesn’t know whether this will backfire spectacularly on him, but as his feet reaches the street, he is already planning ways to take Credence with him away the next time he steps out of this place again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Ezra. In our part of Malaysia, ficwriter103 and I have this pretty awesome thing called tuak and there is even a type that is made out of DRAGONFRUIT!   
> So, won't you come over pretty, pretty please?


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